


Downpour

by TeelLilies



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Hanzo's thoughts, M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, Storms, first kisses I guess?, fixations on weather I suppose, mostly me rambling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 22:31:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15034712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeelLilies/pseuds/TeelLilies
Summary: The weather of Gibraltar is unchanging, much to the distaste of one Hanzo Shimada.





	Downpour

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so quick piece while I'm in the middle of all the chaos that is moving. (rest in pieces my entire life) Because Bluandorange on Tumlr mentioned something (?) like this in a post and I had to write something based on it because it really caught my interest and I've been fighting recent writer's block with these two. So full credit to them for the idea and the inspiration in general haha. And please go check Blu out, their blog is wonderful!

Hanzo Shimada had always been drawn to storms. 

Something about the sheer display of power did well to ground him, to remind him of just how mother nature could truly crush him at any given point in time without any mercy. 

They offered renewal, a fresh breath of air to breathe new life into a stifling reality. 

Sadly, he hadn’t seen a single drop of rain since he’d relocated to Gibraltar to join the newly reformed Overwatch. It was uncomfortably dry and unchanging. Sometimes it was humid, but that was as close as it got to rain. It made Hanzo uneasy. He longed for the thrashing waves he’d seen rip at the rocks during a storm. He wanted the kind of rain that thrashed at the windows and wind that shrieked around buildings in the city, sending skyscrapers shifting in the wind. 

But Gibraltar was disgustingly temperate. And Hanzo seemed to be the only one who didn’t like it. 

Most other members of Overwatch enjoyed the peace. It was nice, Hanzo supposed, for those who didn’t enjoy such things as a good rainfall. But Hanzo had come to hate it where in recent months it started to actually bother him. It made him antsy. 

It was anticipation building up without release. And even if he’d become close to several people around base in his time with Overwatch, they soon started to notice changes in his mood. How he kept looking to the sky when clouds boiled up around base, or how he got fidgety if he was outside for too long. 

He hadn’t seen a storm in months when he and McCree were sent over to America for a recon mission, dealing with a supposed Talon installation that was out of the way enough to fall under the radar. 

It was there that he ran across his release. 

The day had been overcast, and Hanzo had seen Jesse looking at him every time his own gaze lifted to the clouds overhead. Especially near the end of the day, Hanzo could practically smell rain on the breeze coming off of the ocean a few streets over. He was uncharacteristically distracted for the day, enough so that Jesse ended up asking about it, only to be dismissed. 

Hanzo had gotten closer to Jesse over time with Overwatch, but at some point he started to hold the cowboy at arm’s length. He’d grown too fond of the cowboy, gotten too close. So he supposed he shouldn’t have felt bad for dismissing Jesse. Except perhaps he was a bit more harsh than usual. He wasn’t sure about seeing the concern on Jesse’s face when Jesse asked if he was feeling ok as they tried to go over things Hanzo had already forgotten about. 

It wasn’t until the sun had dipped below the sea that the first raindrops fell. 

The archer rose from his bed as soon as he heard the first taps of rain against the window. It’d been so long since he had seen a good storm that instead of sitting by the window he wanted to be outside, wanted to feel rain against his skin and take a fucking breath from the rest of the seemingly unchanging world. 

He was quiet as he crossed the hotel room, quiet as he slid the door to the balcony open to step outside. 

Cold wind eased itself off the sea, wrapping Hanzo in it’s cold embrace, welcoming in its sting against his skin. Just that much had the archer shuddering and leaning against the rail of the balcony as the rain began to fall, looking out over the city lights. 

As the raindrops hit his skin, soaking through his nightshirt slowly, Hanzo felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. Like he could breathe for the first time in months. 

He’d always taken comfort in storms. Ever since he was a child. 

It was what kept him outside even as the rain started to roar down around him, soaking him to the bone in an instant and leaving him shivering slightly as he wrapped his arms around himself and tipped his head forward almost to his arms on the railing. 

The air crackled with energy, and Hanzo heaved a satisfied sigh as that energy freed itself in a crack of thunder that rolled over the city like a wave. He felt himself shudder along with the sky, felt the lightning crackle under his skin like he was one with the storm. 

His hair dripped into his face, leaving black streaks in his vision, as he couldn’t be bothered to flick his hair out of his eyes. He was too focused on the world wrapped around him, on the way the city seemed to dim, to yield under the weight of the storm. The lights seemed to dim through the rain, the smell of city was cut with the smell of cold and wind, nothing could be heard but rain hitting every surface it could, coating the world with itself. 

Hanzo hadn’t felt so at peace in so long. 

 

Nor had he had so much energy. 

It seemed like new life rolled through him with every roll of thunder, with every flash of lightning he could think again and it had his breath shaking in his chest with near excitement. 

Then again it was the dead of night and he was shaking from the cold that had consumed him whole. So perhaps that was why he couldn’t steady his breathing. 

However he was so aware of the storm that he didn’t hear the door behind him slide open, didn’t hear footsteps cross the wet balcony, didn’t see the shadow fall across the railing. 

What he was aware of was a warm hand brushing over his shoulder. 

It had the archer snapping around, already alert but sent practically over the edge in alarm. 

Instead of an intruder he was met with a disgruntled McCree who was quickly getting drenched by the downpour that crashed down around both of them. 

“Hanzo what the hell are you doing out here?” Jesse looked more concerned than he had earlier in the day, he looked Hanzo over, taking in how the archer’s loose hair had fallen over his shoulders, drenched and sticking to the sides of his neck, how Hanzo shivered in the cold. 

“I’m enjoying the storm.” Hanzo huffed, blunt, though not as dismissive as he was earlier, even if he brushed Jesse’s hand off. The warm touch of the cowboy’s hand against his shoulder was a lot in the midst of everything. It grounded him to Jesse, and at the moment that was almost the last thing Hanzo wanted. He wanted to focus on the storm, not the way that water rolled down the line of Jesse’s throat, or how the lightning reflected in soft brown eyes. 

Hanzo had always associated Jesse with the desert but god if that storm didn’t do its damndest to highlight the cowboy’s looks more than anything. 

“It’s fuckin freezing, you sure you don’t wanna come in?” Jesse frowned, glancing over Hanzo’s shoulder out at the skyline Hanzo knew was painted behind him. Hanzo shook his head. No, he didn’t care if the storm killed him at that point, going inside was the last thing he wanted to do. 

What Hanzo did want to do, however, was kiss Jesse. 

It was a thought that had been cropping up often for Hanzo. Sometimes he caught himself staring at Jesse, sometimes all he could focus on was the curve of Jesse's lips, how the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, how his eyes lit up when he laughed. Or even how his expression darkened when he was defending someone he loved, how he looked with blood and dust streaked across his face, cleaning his gun and sitting on the floor of a transport. 

McCree himself was practically a storm with skin, and Hanzo had known such a thing for a long time. But with the rain lashing down around them, Hanzo was slowly realizing that fact as he watched Jesse huff and move over to lean his hip against the railing next to Hanzo. Hanzo eyed the cowboy, silently appraising as the other man looked out over the city and rain ran down over his shoulders in a steady stream. 

"You're one strange son of a bitch Hanzo, I'll give you that." The cowboy scoffed, shaking his head before he looked back to Hanzo. And Hanzo had seen that look before. 

It was one that he'd shied away from, that he refused to let himself think about. The way Jesse's features softened, how the corner of his mouth tugged up slightly. It was just, raw affection. In the last few months, Hanzo had only caught glimpses of that look from Jesse. And every time he'd pushed the thought of such a thing away with force, had dismissed the idea that maybe the cowboy felt more for him than just friendship. He didn't have time for personal relationships beyond his brother. He didn't want to get close to anyone. He had so many excuses as to why he couldn't let himself think about how Jesse looked at him that he hadn't ever looked back. 

But with the rain coming down and Hanzo's world finally falling back into place, he couldn't help but stare. 

Jesse had looked back out over the city, but Hanzo's gaze traced a drop of rain that rolled down from Jesse's cheek to vanish into the cowboy's facial hair. Another droplet of water rolled down the side of Jesse's nose, coming to rest at the corner of Jesse's lips before he lifted a hand to rub over his face, dashing most of the water away. Hanzo's eyes lingered though, god he really did just want to kiss Jesse, to fully put what felt like every confusing part of his life to rest.

The storm had eased the rest of his mind, but it had also brought Jesse out to him, and surely that had to count for something. 

Especially when the next bolt of lightning split the sky and Hanzo watched Jesse's eyes light up, his smile widening a bit, saw the shiver run down the other man's spine. 

It would have taken next to nothing, just to lean in and kiss Jesse, to taste the rain on Jesse's lips and pull the cowboy close to himself. 

When thunder rumbled across the city, Jesse turned to look back to Hanzo, though he blinked upon already seeing the archer's eyes on him, smile only faltering slightly. Hanzo blinked, but didn't glance away much, simply taking another look at the heavens before turning his eyes right back to Jesse as he considered. 

And more than anything in that moment, it felt like not only did he want to kiss Jesse, but he needed to. 

With that thought, and before Jesse could voice whatever he had intended to ask or say to Hanzo, the archer found himself leaning in. 

His lips met Jesse's easily, with all the confidence of a lover as he tilted his head so he didn't bump his nose against Jesse's.

At first the cowboy was still, but after a moment, he moved, and Hanzo was drawn into warm arms. A respite from the storm chilling Hanzo so badly that his skin felt cold in comparison to Jesse's. He only realized how much he was shaking when Jesse's hands rubbed over his arms to warm him up. 

But above all else he was focused on the slide of Jesse's lips on his own, how he could taste stale cigar smoke and rain on the cowboy when he parted his lips to drag teeth over Jesse's bottom lip, teasing. It felt right, the stark contrast of a warm body under his hands and pushed up against his own frame, to the open sky pouring its wrath down on the city below them. 

In the midst of a storm Hanzo always knew he was nothing in the scape of the world, but kissing Jesse, suddenly he felt like, perhaps he at least had a place with McCree. If he didn't, then why did the cowboy's arms around him ground him easier than anything else? Why did Jesse's heartbeat against his own chest feel as right as coming home?

Hanzo broke the kiss with a rough gasp when he could barely breathe any longer. Sure the storm had run energy into his veins and blanketed ice over his skin, but Jesse's hands left fire in their wake as they rubbed down his sides to rest against the small of his back. The cowboy was a warm and welcoming wall, sheltering Hanzo just enough that the archer found himself melting into Jesse's touch, arms winding around the cowboy's middle. 

Somehow it didn't feel like he had to mention what had just passed between them. It felt like it was just, normal, like it was expected. So instead of talking, Hanzo tucked himself against Jesse, enjoying the arm that wrapped around his shoulders as he settled his head against Jesse's wet shoulder to stare out over the half-drowned city. 

Hanzo always knew why he'd been drawn to storms. 

They brought change, sometimes it was small, other times it was large. Sometimes good, sometimes bad. Sometimes change was blood washing out of his skin to stain the ground, and sometimes change was a warm body to enjoy the rain with, and Hanzo found himself seriously enjoying the latter.

**Author's Note:**

> As always feel free to leave a comment if you liked it! I love hearing from my readers!


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